


Flowing Blood

by FrozenVoid



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Chicago Fire Main, Chicago PD & Chicago Med Appearances, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Otis Centric, Psychological Trauma, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenVoid/pseuds/FrozenVoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone had to clean up the blood. </p><p>- </p><p>The aftermath of Herrmann's stabbing isn't the end of the horrors for Firehouse 51.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are empty spaces, when they’re simply void of people.

And then there are empty spaces.

Like a room with a dense air that hangs over them, where you can feel the history of a horror that has taken place there.

That was Molly’s.

But she wasn’t empty.

Someone had to clean up the blood.

Otis sits in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a bloodstained rag in his hand. The bucket is filled with soapy red water. Otis stares at the floor with the pink smeared stain. He sighs and rubs his forehead with the back of his wrist. He stands from the floor and grabs the bucket.

He goes over to the sink, dumps the water and watches as it swirls down the drain. He rings out the rag as best he can and then gives the bucket a rinse, filling it with fresh, hot water. He looks around a bit before he finds a brush. He runs it under the hot water. He heaves the bucket out of the sink and returns to his task.

On his knees, Otis scrubs hard with the brush. The suds get a pink tinge the more he scrubs.

He doesn’t know how long it takes but he finally gets the floor clean. To him it still feels dirty, but there are no visible traces left of that fact that Herrmann…

Not to the naked eye at least.

Otis throws the brush and rag into the garbage. He empties the bucket and does the same.

He runs the hot water and starts cleaning his hands. His breath starts to pick up and he scrubs more franticly. Steam rises from the sink as the hot water begins to reach its optimum temperature.

“Gah,” Otis lets out as the water begins to burn him. His hands shake slightly as he breathes slowly, the steam rising up. His red hands turn the water off and all is quiet. Otis braces himself against the sink and closes his eyes.

-

Otis exits Molly’s, the sun setting. He locks the door, adjusts his bag over his shoulder and heads off.

Neither the firehouse nor his place is close to the bar, but the walk is possible. He doesn’t know which one he’ll choose to go to, but he doesn’t have to make that decision yet for another few blocks.

Otis’ mind drifts off and by the time he realizes he’s missed his turn, its dark. He looks around as he tries to grasp where he’s wandered off too. A dog barks off in the distant.

“Lost?” A man with a slight Russian accent asks from behind him.

Otis turns and faces a man a good four inches taller than him. His blond hair shines in the dim street lamps and his face is hard despite the smile. Two men stand behind him who Otis can’t see too well in the bad lighting. He can only tell one is shorter than the other.

A shaky smile graces Otis’ face.

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

“You sure?”

_“I like the look of this one,”_ the shorter man says in Russian.

_“He looks easy,”_ the other says.

Otis looks towards the men.

_“Quiet,”_ the blond says. 

Otis turns his attention to him, he’s still smiling.

“You speak Russian?”

Otis shakes his head. “No. Thanks. For the help, but I’m good.” He turns to walk away, reaching into his pocket. A tight hand grips his upper arm. Otis whips his head around, the blond ever smiling.

_“I don’t like to be lied to,”_ he says.

Otis yanks his arm out of the man’s grip, his phone in his hand.

“What do you think-“

Otis is cut off as a fist connects with his face. He stumbles back, his phone falling from his hand as he falls to his hands and knees, his palms scrapping on the concrete. The phone tumbles off into the darkness.

_“It’s going be a bad night for you,”_ the blond says as he grips Otis’ hair and yanks his head back.

Otis feels a pinch in his neck. The world begins to swirl, his eyes grow heavy and he feels like he’s sinking before nothing.

-

Cruz sits at the squad table and bounces his leg up and down as he tries Otis for the fifth time that morning.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he pulls his cell phone from his ear and cancels the call that goes to voicemail, again.

“Still nothing?” Severide asks, his feet perched up on the table.

“No. I’m getting worried now,” Cruz says as he stands up and starts to pace. “He said he was going to Molly’s to clean up…” Cruz stops pacing. “I’ve been trying him all morning. I wanted to update him on Hermann, tell him he’s okay, but I he’s not answering.” Cruz turns to his lieutenant. “And to not show up for shift? This isn’t like him.”

Severide swings his feet off the table and stands.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

-

Boden sits at his desk as he examines his two lieutenants before him.

“He’s never missed a shift, Chief,” Casey says as he stands with his arms crossed.

“Cruz has been trying him all morning,” says Severide as he leans forward in his seat.

Boden rubs his eyes. “I have one man in the hospital and now one missing?”

Casey and Severide glance at each other, unsure how to answer.

“I can ask Gabby to get in touch with Antonio, just to be safe.”

Boden slowly nods his head. “Do that. With all that’s happened I don’t want anyone to be unaccounted for.”

Casey nods and exits.

Severide stands to leave.

“You know I thought,” Boden begins. Severide stops and turns to his chief. “I thought once my name was cleared things would be peaceful.” He looks at Severide in the eyes. “We didn’t even make it a day before shit rained down on us again.”

Severide doesn’t say anything but holds eye contact with Boden.

The alarm goes off, calling for only Ambulance 61.

 “Things will get better, Chief.”

Boden breaks the gaze. “I hope so.”

-

The ambulance drives down a deserted street with empty houses, all with boarded up windows. A police car is pulled to the side of the road, the officer waving them down.

“So what type of druggie will we get today?” Chili asks with a smile on her face as she turns to Brett, who’s frowning.

“What’s up with you?”

Brett pulls the ambulance behind the police car. “With everything that’s going on I’m just…not in the mood to joke.”

Chili makes a face of ‘wow, okay’ as they exit the ambulance. They grab their bags and approach the officer.

“What do we got?” Brett asks.

The officer leads them into the backyard of one of the houses.

“We get a lot of druggies and drunks in this area. Usually just pick them up and book’em,” the officer says.

“And this one’s different?” Chili asks.

“This one…this one we called in.”

In the yard, Brett and Chili see another officer crouched down next to a figure lying across the ground. Brett picks up her pace, Chili trails behind. Brett lays her bag down and gets to her knees beside the form, she freezes.

“Oh my God. Otis?”

“You know him?” the officer that was with him asks.

“He’s a firefighter at our house. Otis.” Brett takes Otis’ face in her hands, his eyes are half lidded and he appears out of it.

Chili gets down on the other side of him and then gentle role him onto his back. “What happened to him?”

The officer that led them to the back answers. “We were hoping you can tell us.”

With Otis on his back, Brett can see the further extent of his injuries. Bruises paint the left side of Otis’ face and run down his neck, his clothes are torn and his breathing is ragged, his eyes closed now. Chili puts a neck brace on him as Brett pulls out her light to check his eyes.

“Otis, can you hear me?” She holds up his lids as she flashes the light on his dilated pupils.

Chili lifts his shirt to reveal a huge purple bruise covering his whole side.

“He’s got internal bleeding,” Chili says with urgency. Brett shakes her head, worry and panic flooding her face.

“What the hell happened, Otis?” 


	2. Chapter 2

His mind awoke but he kept his eyes closed. His other senses identifying his location. While the steady rhythmic beat of the heart monitor is always a dead giveaway, hospitals just have an air about them. Smell and sounds put aside. Otis always figured if he ended up here it would be after a job, either with burns or some part of him crushed and broken.

Well, part of him was.

As his mind awakened to full consciousness, so did his body.

His mouth was dry and his neck felt stiff and sore. He truly didn't want to open his eyes but he began to grow more and more uncomfortable. He opened his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the harsh lights, but there were none. His room was dark, the only source of light seeping in from the hall, which was empty.

Otis shifts in the bed, a groan emitting from behind his lips as he tries to re-position his aching body. He feels the tug of an IV line on his arm and follows the tubing up to a single bag, the drip slow. He looks at the rail of his bed which has an array of buttons. He goes to press the call button but waits. His hand falls back to his side. He looks up towards the ceiling and takes a deep breath and let's it out. He does this before he falls back into a restful sleep.

-

Cruz looks as if he hasn’t slept in days, which is true. Between the incident with Herrmann and Freddie, his guilt ridden conscious doesn't give him a moments rest. Now, he sits beside his best friend who was beaten and bruised with a story he doesn’t have all the pieces to.

His eyes scan over the bruises on Otis’ face and neck that travel down below the hospital gown. He looks down but the image is branded into his memory.

He should’ve been there.

Wherever there was.

Cruz takes a deep breath and looks up as Otis’ eyes open slowly and blinks.

Cruz’s breathe catches and he stands.

“Hey,” he says and he rests his hands on the edge of the bed. Otis turns to him, just looking at him blankly.

The two firefighters simply look at each other.

“I’ll go get your doctor.” Cruz turns to go, but a light touch on his hand stops him. Otis’ pinky and ring finger barely reach Cruz’s hand but the light touch was enough to tell Cruz to stay.

Cruz nods. “Okay. Okay.”

Otis closes his eyes. Without moving his hand, Cruz reaches back and moves his chair as close as he can to the bed and sits.

He looks down at their hands, and with slight hesitation he lightly places his hand over the top of Otis’.

-

Cruz is roused awake when Doctor Rhodes came in to check on Otis. Realizing his hand was still grasping Otis’ he quickly withdraws it. Rhodes shows no signs of noticing as he reads over Otis’ chart. Cruz clears his voice.

“Everything okay?”

Rhodes looks up and smiles.

“The bleeding’s stopped and no signs of infection. Physically, he’ll be okay.”

The two didn’t go into what Cruz fears.

Rhodes places the chart back on the edge of the bed. “You’re friends are in the waiting area. Felt I should give you a heads up and a chance to wake up a bit.”

Cruz rubs his eye and stands. “Thanks.”

“You should go get some rest.”

“He woke up.”

Rhodes raises an eyebrow.

“Otis, he woke up, but fell right back to sleep.”

“The meds he’s on can do that. We’re gonna start weaning him off a bit.”

Cruz stands looking unsure of what to do.

“We’ll let you know as soon as he wakes up.”

Cruz gives Otis one last look before he nods. He heads for the door, Rhodes giving him a pat on his shoulder as he passes. Rhodes watches as Cruz wakes down the hall, exhaustion visible in his steps. Rhodes turns back to Otis.

“He cares about you. They all do.”

Otis’ eyes slowly open, they’re tired but show signs that he’s been awake for a bit now. Rhodes walks over to the little table on wheel that has a pitcher of water and a cup. He pours water and sticks a straw in it, handing it to Otis.

Otis takes it gratefully.

“I understand if you don’t want to see anyone, but the detectives want to talk to you as soon as possible.”

Otis brings the cup down and watches as the straw sways gently.

In a sore and raspy voice Otis asks, “Is Herrmann okay?”

Rhodes watches Otis stare at the straw carefully. “Herrmann’s gonna pull through just fine.”

Otis nods and Rhodes can barely hear the ‘good’ Otis whispers.

Rhodes knows he’s not the type of doctor equipped to help Otis, but he can’t help but feel a sense of defeat as the invisible wounds begin to form their scars.

-

Mouch peeks into Herrmann’s rooms and is surprised to find it empty. Herrmann, awake and flipping through channels, turns at his appearance.

“Hey,” he says with a smile and clicks the TV off.

“Where’s Cindy?” Mouch asks as he enters the room and pulls up a chair.

“Told her to go home, the kids need her more than me right now. I’ll be outta here soon anyway.”

“Yeah,” Mouch says with a smile. “Glad you’re alright.”

“Heh, me too. So, what’ve I missed during my bedridden state?”

Mouch’s face drops a bit and Herrmann sees it immediately.

“What happened?”

“No one’s told you?”

“Told me what?”

Mouch’s face shows that he wishes he wasn’t the one to deliver this news.

“Mouch!”

Mouch locks eyes with Herrmann; he looks away as he begins.

“Otis didn’t show up for shift 2 days ago and Cruz couldn’t get ahold of him. Then the ambo gets a call, turns out its Otis, beaten.”

“Oh god.”

“It gets worse.”

Herrmann shakes his head.

“There’s signs of…sexual abuse.”

Herrmann closes his eyes. “Rape.”

Mouch hangs his head, “Yeah.”

“Shit.” Herrmann runs a hand over his face. “Do they know who, why?”

Mouch shakes his head. “From what I heard, the police haven’t found anything. They’re waiting for Otis to wake up to talk to him.”

“Jesus.”

The men sit in silence.

“When does it end?” Herrmann says. Mouch just shakes his head.

-

He body felt every touch and sensation, the weight of the man above him who he could neither see nor fight. The cloth tied tight around his eyes causing a disorientation which his other sense couldn’t sort out die to whatever drug was coursing through his veins. He could only tell when the men changed. Each had their own way of violating him.

One liked to gripped his neck and control his intake of air, he was rough and tore through him.

One liked to use his mouth, nipping and sucking; he was fast and gripped his thighs hard each time.

One, was Otis’ sigh of relief.

“Otis?”

Pulled from his nightmare Otis focuses his gaze on Detective Lindsay. She sits beside his bed giving him those concerning eyes. He’s getting tired of them. Voight stands off in the corner, arms crossed with his usual stoic look. Yet Otis can almost feel the concern emitting from him. He doesn’t know Voight all that well, but he knows despite his questionable actions, it’s always for those who have been wronged.

He fiddles with the gauze around the palms of his hands.

“We can come back later, if you-”

“I dropped my phone,” Otis says, his voice still sore from his injuries. “And my bag. I had my bag with me.”

Voight approaches the end of the bed. “Can you give us any details about who did this?”

Otis pulls the gauze off his left hand. He fingers the raw skin.

“Otis,” Lindsay’s voice is layered with that concern again.

He makes a fist, digging his nails into his skin and drawing blood.

“Brain.” Lindsay rises from her seat.

“I think that’s enough for today.”

Lindsay and Voight turn to the newcomer, Doctor Daniel Charles. “Detectives,” he says with a smile. Voight looks him over and nods, he motions for Lindsay to follow.

“Russian.”

All heads turn to Otis, who’s eyes and concentrate on the blood dripping forming in his hand.

“They were Russian.”

“They?” Voight asks.

“There are three.”

-

Three.

Cruz felt the world spin around him.

Three.

He shakes his head, wishing that information would be erased from his brain as easy as an etch a sketch. He stands beside Boden, as the rest of the family occupies the waiting area, trying to register what they’ve been told.

“We’re going to canvass the area again where he was found and see if we can track his phone.” Lindsay was telling Boden, who ran a hand over his face.

“Did he say anything about them? Descriptions or anything?” Severide asks and he comes to stand by Boden.

“Just that they were Russian.” Lindsay explains. “He’s still in shock, but he may also speak to one of you more. If he tells you anything…”

“Of course,” Boden says, “We’ll let you know right away.

Voight and Lindsay make their departure and a dense silence hangs in the air. Boden turns to his men and women. He looks over each and every one of them.

He turns and leaves.

Casey furrows his brows and quick stands to follow, Dawson watches as he leave.

Casey jogs to catch up to Boden.

“Chief,” he places a hand on his shoulder to halt him. The Chief spins around, his eyes filled with such sorrow.

“Chief…”

Boden shakes his head. “Two of my men, my family, are lying in hospital beds. I feel like I’ve…”

“This is not your fault. Herrmann or Otis. It’s no one’s fault but the people who did this.”

Boden hangs his head. Casey gives his shoulder a squeeze.

-

When Cruz enters the room, he sees the empty bed before he hears the running water.

“Otis?”

Panicked at the sight of small droplets of blood leading the way, he quickly rushes into the bathroom.

Otis sits on the floor of the shower with his face buried in his knees as the water soaks him, blood flowing from his arm where he ripped the IV out.

“Otis!” Cruz rushes to turn the water off, the sudden coldness stinging his skin. The faucet squeaks off and Cruz crouches down next to a shivering Otis.

“Can I get some help in here!” Cruz shouts out the door, he bends down next to Otis. “What are you doing man?”

Cruz reaches out to grab Otis. “Come on.”

Otis finches at the sudden contact and Cruz hesitates, its then he realizes Otis is crying. Cruz is heartbroken at the sight of his best friend. As gentle as he can, he wraps his arms around Otis, the water soaking his clothes. Otis is stiff, but soon relaxes in his embrace, wrapping his own arms around Cruz.

Doctor Rhodes watches the scene, nurses rush to intervene.

“Wait,” he says holding up a hand. “Just…wait.”

 Rhodes watches as Otis’ grip on the back of Cruz’s shirt tightens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Chicago Fire/Med/PD fic and I also don't watch Med or PD like I watch Fire, so I apologize for any drastic Out of Characterness from them.


	3. Chapter 3

Otis sits at the edge of his bed and watches as figures pass by his door, looking for the one he’s waiting for. He’s not sure why he went this route, he could probably just wait but he’s itching to get out of here. Lost in thought as knock at the door cast his drifting eyes back towards it. It wasn’t who he was waiting for.

“May I come in?” Dr. Charles asks. Otis nods, sitting up straight. Charles comes in with a smile.

“I don’t think we’ve formally met. Dr. Daniel Charles, Chef of Psychiatry,” he holds out his hand. Otis is hesitant, but takes his hand. The shake is both firm and gentle.

“Otis?”

The men turn to the voice from the doorway. Cindy is poking her head inside. Otis stands and goes to her. She hands him a bag.

“Thank you, Cindy,” Otis says and she gives him a small smile.

“Not a problem,” Cindy says, she glances up at Charles and then back at Otis. “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

“Oh, not at all,” Charles says, waving a hand up.

“I have to go pick up the kids so I can’t stay, but you should stop by Chris’ room, he’s been asking for you.”

Otis pauses and gives a short nod with a tight smile. “Okay.”

Cindy smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder before she leaves.

Otis puts the bag down on the bed; he’s almost forgotten Charles was there.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer then you want to be here.” Charles reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “If you need to talk, you can reach me on either of those numbers.”

Otis takes the card and reads over the two numbers, an office and cell. He nods.

“Thanks.”

-

Otis leans in the doorway of Herrmann’s room in a pair of jeans and a gray sweater. It takes a minute before Herrmann notices him, who turns to him with a smile.

“Hey, there he is.”

Otis forces a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh, I’ll be up and fighting fires again in no time.” Herrmann tries to hang onto his smile, but it wavers slightly. “You got discharged?” 

Otis looks down at his clothes. “Yeah, I, um, signed my release forms. I mean I’m fine, just a little achy.”

Herrmann’s smile disappears. “Anybody here to take you home?”

Otis lets out a scoff. “I'm not one of your kids, Herrmann.”

Otis regretted the snippy comment immediately. He knew by Herrmann’s face that the man was just looking out for him. They all were. As far as Otis knows, no one knows about what happened the other night for he had asked Cruz to not tell anyone, and he trusted his friend with that. Maybe it was just the father in Herrmann, but Otis felt like he just knew things.

“Why don’t you stay a for a bit, I’ve got some cards-”

“I just wanna get home.”  

A moment of silence fell between the two men. Otis looked down and Herrmann took that opportunity to really examine his friend. From the years he spent with Otis he can see right through the mask he was trying so hard to keep in place. He also knows he won’t be able to keep him here.

“Well, get home and get some rest. In a real bed.”

Otis let out a small chuckle; he gave Herrmann’s arm a pat. “Will do.”

-

Otis found himself at 51. It wasn’t until halfway home that he realized he had no keys to get into the house. When he got there the trucks were gone, so he went inside and sat on the couch. Pouch hopped up next to him.

“Hey girl,” he said as he began scratching her neck. She leaned her body across his thighs, welcoming the rub. He smiled down at her.

He was so distracted with Pouch he didn’t even hear the trucks pull in. Pouch shot up and walked with a wagging tail over to the returning crew.

“Otis?” Casey said as everyone had the same look of surprise on their face. It was then Otis remembered he left the hospital without really telling anyone.

“Otis?” Cruz made his way through the small crowd; he was covered in sweat and soot. Otis’s chest began to get tight with all eyes on him as he stood to face everyone.

“I, uh, don’t have keys,” he said as he began to fidget.

-

“Take time, take care of him.”

“Sir…”

Chief Boden raised a hand, placing the other on his desk. “If anyone can help Otis through this, it’s you Joe.”

Cruz looked Boden in the eyes, his beginning to well up. Boden walked over to Cruz and laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

-

Cruz shut the door lightly behind him and Otis.

“Otis,” Cruz called out before Otis can disappear into the room. Otis stopped and hesitated before he turned around.

Cruz took a moment to take in Otis. His heart ached as he can see that the joking, smart mouth, man that he was…

No, Cruz wouldn’t believe that Otis was gone. Broken perhaps, but not gone. He couldn’t be.

Cruz realized he was staring when Otis shifted uncomfortably and grabbed the edge of his shirt. Otis spoke faster than Cruz.

“Look, I haven’t had…can I just…get cleaned up before we…” Otis looked at Cruz with desperation for an understanding.

Cruz’s heart broke even more. He nodded.

“Of course.”

Otis mustered up the best and smallest smile he could before turning and walking down the hall.

With Otis out of sight, Cruz allowed his stance to slump and he made his way to the couch. He sat down heavy and leaned forward onto his knees. He brought his hands to his face and tried to rub the exhaustion, both mentally and physically away. He let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch to listen.

When he heard the sound of the shower start he waited a few seconds. He brought his hand to his mouth, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t enough.

His brows furrowed as the cries began to rack his body. The tears didn’t come right away but they did. He tried to wipe them away with the palm of his hand but that never helps. He let himself cry until he could get ahold of his breathing. He took deep breaths through his stuffed nose and let them out shakily through his mouth. When he was steady he got up and went to the kitchen. He ran the water and splashed his face with the cold water. He took paper towel and patted himself dry. He leaned over the sink for a bit, his mind just blank of any thoughts for that moment.

He heard the shower squeak off.

He took another deep breath to fend off any last shakes.

-

Otis was able to get out of talking with Cruz that night. At least he thought he did. He said he was tired, which wasn’t a lie, and went to bed as Cruz took his turn in the shower. The minute his head hit the pillow, though, he was wide awake. He listened as Cruz did his nightly routine and the silence that followed. He lay there, hoping that he would eventually drift off, but after tossing and turning and feeling hours go by when it was actually only a handful of minutes, Otis said enough. He flung the covers off, grabbed a blanket and headed to the living room.

-

Nothing was on. Otis flipped through the channels robotically. How could there be not a single thing worth his time at…3:23 in the morning?

With a frustrated sigh he decided the next channel is what he would leave on. He landed on QVC and tossed the remote beside him. He pulled his blanket around his shoulders tighter and leaned back.

By 3:45 Otis was convinced him and Cruz needed this Vitamix in their lives. Mostly because he wanted to try and make creamy peanut butter out of pure peanuts, because how the hell?

“What is he making?”

Otis wasn’t startled when Cruz’s tired voice asked the question.

“An extreme smoothie.”

Cruz sat down with his own blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Am I readin’ that price right? Cruz said as he rubbed his eyes.

“I know but what it can do,” Otis said as he glanced at Cruz.

They were silent for a little as they watched the blender make soup.

“Shouldn’t you get some rest? You’ll be tired for shift tomorrow.”

“The chief gave me some time off.”

Cruz turned to Otis, their eyes met and Otis turned away. “I’m fine. You don’t have to take off work to care for me.”

“Stop saying that.”

Otis turned to Cruz. Cruz took a deep breath.

“You’re not fine,” Cruz said as he shook his head. “It’s me Otis, you can’t lie like that to me.”

Otis took a shaky breath; he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“I can be here.”

“Maybe I don’t want you here.”

It stung, but Cruz knew better then to take the words personal. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Otis stared at the blank screen.

“Let’s try to get some sle-”

“I wasn’t supposed to wake up.” Otis cut in quickly.

“What?”

Otis begins shaking his head.

“They have my ID, they know the address, they have keys they can come in and hurt-I don’t want you to be around if that happens and I-”

Cruz was up and kneeling before Otis who was getting frantic and crying.

“Otis, Otis, hey, hey, no one’s coming, no one’s going to hurt you.”

Otis just shook his head. “I don’t care about me.”

“Don’t say that. Look at me.”

Cruz took Otis’s face in his hands.

“Tomorrow I will get the locks changed, okay?” Otis nodded. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

Cruz pulled Otis into a hug. Otis buried his face into Cruz’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Otis mumbled something.

“What was that?” Cruz pulled away so he could look at Otis. Otis took a few seconds until he repeated what he said.

“I remember his face.”

-

Otis squeezed into Cruz’s bed that night, falling asleep in the other man’s strong embrace. Cruz listened to his friend’s steady breathing, wishing it would lull him to sleep.

But it couldn’t.


End file.
